


Exhibit A

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dave and Rose find an exhibit on their ancestor and his lovers, Dirk's their muse, Dirk-centric, Flashback, M/M, Oh man Jake's shitty poetry too, Sculptor Caliborn, but Dave's POV, in which Dirk gets called a gay whore a lot but he's long dead so doesn't matter, it's terrible, poet jake, sorta anyway, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're related to this douchebag?" In which Dave discovers his roots, and their motives in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhibit A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smolonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolonde/gifts).



> Z's is so much better and so much more serious what the hell is this bullshit. Oh god and look at that title.   
> Idfk enjoy it though.

Whatever jackass decided that taking a class of high schoolers to the cities most boring museum, history, deserves a swift punch to the balls. You sit bored on your phone, leaning on Rose when someone walks over to the two of you. 

"Hey, Strider," Nathan sneers, and he reeks of Axe and insecurity. "There's an exhibit about your family. Guess you were always gay whores." 

"The family tradition." Rose quips, as she looks up from her map. "There does seem to be an exhibit about a 'Dirk Strider' however. Care to go check out our gay whore of an ancestor?" You groan and get off of her, standing up and cracking your back. 

"Only because Sollux isn't texting me back." 

"Lovely." She gets up, stepping aside the douche who came to bother the two of you, and giving him the smile she knows scares people. The exhibit is in some obscure part of the museum, past the bathrooms and the shitty southern island native dioramas. 

"Muse of two men?" You read the exhibit title, stepping in, and you're immediately faced with a marble statue of said muse. He is rather attractive, high cheekbones, hair spiked strangely (especially given the time period), muscles toned, and some quality you can't place surrounding him. You also notice too much time was spent sculpting his genitalia. 

"Dirk strider," Rose reads from the plaque in front of the statue as you study the minute details the sculptor captured. "Born in Scotland his birth name was Derrick, referred to as Dirk for the style of dagger he consistently carried with him."

"The douche was nicknamed after a damn sword?" 

"Apparently so," She shrugs. "Dirk was known to work locally in a tavern, it is speculated he be a prostitute," 

"Classy." 

"During his time at the pub he attracted the attention of two different artists. The hopelessly romantic poet, Jacob English, and the acclaimed, brilliant sculptor known only to be called Caliborn." 

"Alright so he was a gay whore, cool, he also had a nice ass if Caliborn could spent so much time sculpting it."

"It is an exceptional ass to be sculpted from marble." She nods, "impressively well hung for a statue too." 

"Does it feel weird to be staring at our ancestors dick?" 

"It's a statue. It's art." 

"Are you implying incest is fine if it's art?" She pinches you in the side as you snicker. The exhibit goes down a hallway, poetry and pictures of statues littered on the walls, small plaques proclaiming what they all are. 

"Come on." Rose starts to walk down, stopping in front of the first plaque. "The first account in these mens' art is a poem by Jacob, entitled Maelstrom." Her eyes flick to the poetry. "Oh my, he was a dramatic one." 

"What's it say?" 

"In the dim impurity I found you  
Clothed in heavenly light and sheen of your sin   
I could bask in your presence eternally   
Was it not for the whirlwind of confusion you cause me   
You are the birth of duality   
Pure in your sin   
Sharp and wounding in you softness   
No need for protection yet carrying a weapon for murder   
A maelstrom I fear I be lost in." 

"Drama queen." 

"Oh absolutely." Her shoes clack down a few more feet. "There's more poems," she says walking sideways down the wall. "Fly closer for I shall treat you well." She recites as you slowly meander after her. "So from what I can gather English got the girl, or more accurately our gay whore of an ancestor until, oh drama." She says completely flatly. 

"Our second artist is introduced."

"Apparently it has just torn our poet apart." You walk foreword next to her, looking at the poem entitled True Passion. You clear your throat and begin to read it to her. 

"for you are the dirk- clever play on words there- to slice between my ribs  
To thrust deep into my chest and tear viciously apart all you find  
For some sick masochist be I  
I desire it each and every time   
I desire you every moment   
Yet you have found another   
One unworthy of who you be   
It is worse then death to see he with you." You raise an eyebrow. "That's a lot of homoerotic subtext."

"He was a poet courting a male prostitute, that's some homoerotic text." Rose notes. "The most famous statue of Dirk, by Caliborn, is currently housed in a private collection." There is a photo of it however. It depicts Dirk wrapped in some seemingly gauzy fabric, sleeping. He's got long legs that are atop each other as he sleeps on his side. There's Caliborn's rough sketch below the photo that shows Dirk asleep, eyes closed, looking insanely peaceful. 

"Oh, Lalonde, check this out, 'My need for thee.'" 

"Lets hear it." 

"My heart aches for thee   
The bruises he keeps alive and vibrant on your skin   
They are my condemners welcoming me to your hell   
For you are an angel   
One whom a devil has ensnared   
And long with thee he drags I to hell." 

"Well he is quite anti-Caliborn." 

"Jealousy." 

"Typical." You walk past her as she reads all of the informational stuff and you're immediately presented with another statue of him. He looks like such a douche. The statue stands tall and proud, arm outstretched and hand open as if it was supposed to be holding something but Caliborn forgot to carve it. The statue has a side glance and a smirk that makes him look like he thinks he's some emperor with the world at his command. As you look at the statue's smug expression you're taken to another time. 

Dirk's skin is fairer, and has more freckles then you do, facial features sharper. He's taller, skinnier, and his muscles make up what little of him there is. A taller man stands beside him, darker skin, large hands, skin bulging with what you could assume is muscle. Dirk smirks at him as the guy pulls him in for a kiss, large hand on his back and the other in his hair. 

"We could find you a new job." The tanner man says, voice deep. 

"We could..." Dirk's voice seeps smugness, and you would wager a good sum of money he had this man wrapped and folded like an origami crane, tight and pretty, around his finger. "But nothing is quite as lucrative." The tanner man's head dips into your ancestors neck to bite at a bruise already there and- oh. That must be Caliborn. 

"Don't quite like the way that poet asshole looks at you." 

"Oh but he writes about us in such a lovely envious way people will adore for years to come."

"Art takes many forms, and adoration and appreciation come not just to poetry." Caliborn grumbles. Oh man, Dirk's face is all the smugger. 

"And I'm sure your statues will be fawned over for eons." Holy fuck. This asshole's voice dripped pure pride with that statement. Something clicks in your mind, a prostitute, seducing two different artists, art forms known to last in history. Your ancestor had both those artists under his thumb didn't he. 

"This bitch." You blurt out and Rose walks behind you raising an eyebrow. 

"This bitch?" 

"He would be so fucking proud of this whole exhibit wouldn't he." 

"Dave what the hell are you talking about?" 

"This little gay whore got famous because he wanted to." 

"Are you implying our ancestor just shook his ass to manipulate certain people so he'd be the object of their art, which would therefore make him famous even after his death?"

"Bingo."

"I'm impressed." Rose nods, turning around to admire the exhibit. "Good for him, well played." 

"What a jackass."

**Author's Note:**

> Z is like my best friend and the minute she told me she shipped dirkuu i immediately started sending them AUs.   
> Her gift fic to me is so much longer and better and I 100% recommend it.   
> I'll just update permanence for her.   
> I'm on tumblr at Barefootcosplayer if you wanna hit me up


End file.
